


In the light of day

by LeannieBananie



Series: A Madness Made for Two [6]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Canon Dialogue, F/M, Feels, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, More angst, Pre-Relationship, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers, Super Mutants, Swearing, Violence, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the light of day Hancock realizes he's being selfish by leading Jo on and decides to put an end to whatever it is that's between them. Jo is frustrated and disappointed and just wants to be angry at him for messing with her emotions, but when she feels him start to pull away she panics and decides that her friendship with him is more important than any other feelings she has. But does Hancock feel the same way? Does he <em>really</em> want this to end? Can he be satisfied with being "just friends?" And what happens when an unexpected danger threatens everything he has come to care for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things Super Mutants Say

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after _Running away is what he knows best_. If you see any mistakes holler at me and kudos and comments are squeed over. I hope this was worth the wait folks.
> 
> For those of you who have been waiting impatiently for this, I am so sorry its taken this long. To those joining us for the first time, welcome to Team Angst. 
> 
> Things are insanely crazy on my end and in case you ever wondered, planning an international move is mind-bogglingly stressful and involves mountains of paperwork. I will try to write and update as regularly as I can, but things will probably be slow for me over the next couples months until this move and its shit showy-ness is over.

Hancock watched her as she walked just in front of him, every line in her body suggesting a simmering anger just below the surface that was waiting for the perfect moment to boil over. With a sigh he adjusted his tricorn, his head protesting the bright sun that beat down on them. His eyes felt scratchy and heavy from lack of sleep and his body was sluggish. It was a dangerous combination when traveling the Commonwealth, but Jo had roused them early this morning –too early– and none of his quiet protests had changed her mind. 

She set a grueling pace and where once Hancock would have been busy admiring how her combat armor hugged the curve of her ass, he was now struggling to keep up, gritting his teeth as sweat trickled down his neck. Jo seemed completely unaffected by the heat and that irritated him. It seemed improbable that she had gotten over last night so quickly, but other than the tension in her shoulders, she seemed completely indifferent about everything. The thought that she might be moving on sooner rather than later chafed too. Maybe he’d be able to accept it if he kept telling himself it was what he wanted, when in fact the opposite was true. 

And that was the problem; he didn’t want to let her go, even if it was for the best. Last night had weakened his resolve and now he couldn’t decide if it was the best moment or worst mistake of his life. He knew what she felt like now –amazing– all smooth, warm skin and bright, luminous eyes. She had molded to his twisted body like she had been made for him and he couldn’t forget that even if he tried. And he had tried. He had left her dazed and alone to drown himself in booze and psycho, hoping the chem would burn the image and feel of her from his mind. Instead it had just intensified his need for her and scorched his veins, leaving him jumpy, on edge, and feeling like the sleaziest, lowest worm on the planet. 

She deserved better than a selfish bastard like him. Because not only was he causing himself pain, he was also toying with her emotions and he couldn’t seem to help it. He felt guilty for continually leading her on, but there was the part of his heart that reveled in the sharp pain he felt and he had no regrets. It meant that he got to hold her, to be near her, if only for a moment and any hurt he felt was worth her companionship. She made him feel hope again, because he had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t find something like this. He hid any longing behind a confident attitude, because most days it didn’t bother him and one night stands were usually enough to sate any need for comfort or physical touch. But then he had met her and somehow she had fit into his life so perfectly that he hadn’t even realized he had fallen for her until it was too late. She was a balm for his weary soul, but she deserved someone better than him. 

He was a coward; he either ran from all his problems, buried them under an abundance of chems, or a combination of the two. He really just wasn’t that good of a person; he tended to be cocky, but weak, and more prone to violence than the average individual. Violence got him what he wanted a hell of a lot faster than diplomacy did, so he used that to his advantage, never mind his political status as mayor. Jo deserved someone like the honorable Preston Garvey, or even pretty boy Danse with his bigoted ideals. Someone who wouldn’t fuck up constantly and would treat her with the respect she deserved. Not someone who basically lived off chems and liquor and was a ghoul. And definitely not someone who selfishly trifled with her emotions and couldn’t handle how she made him feel. 

And he was so screwed, because he didn’t know how to tell her that she fucking terrified him in the best way possible and if today was any indication, Jo was tired of waiting around for him to get his shit together. 

Hell, he was tired of it too. 

. 

. 

Jo held her shotgun in capable hands, scanning the horizon before them as they silently advanced down the road. She refused to acknowledge Hancock, but he was an ever present fixture in her peripheral vision, his bright red jacket flickering in and out of sight with irritating consistency. Her jaw clenched when she caught sight of him again and she angled her head away, focusing instead on a gnarled tree in the distance. 

Her entire body felt tense and brittle, on the verge of shattering with each jarring step against the cracked pavement. Or maybe that was her heart. There was a definite twinge in that area, accompanied by a nauseous twist in her stomach. The hurt and confusion she felt was a heavy, leaden ball in her chest, but there was a sharp, jagged edge to it. She was angry and disappointed with Hancock, because he was playing games with her and he had to know that he was doing it. There was no way in hell he _couldn’t_ know. He had balls to look at her like she was his missing piece and it had made her feel beautiful and wanted in a way that she hadn’t felt since she had first met Nate. There was _something_ between them and for a moment she thought he was going to act on it, but then those heated onyx eyes had gone wide with panic and he had run. 

Jo just didn’t understand why he kept meeting her in the middle of this _thing_ , when he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. The bitter letdown was getting more difficult to bear with each disappointing rejection. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have enough to worry about, but he had to go and twist her damn heart around his scrawny finger and she couldn’t do anything about it. God she wanted him; wanted him in a way that she had never wanted anyone before –even Nate– and it wasn’t just a physical attraction. She cared for the idiot too, with all his vulnerabilities and that smart-mouth, which made the whole situation that much worse. She couldn’t just walk away and be done with it, because her heart was invested. 

The sting of rejection hurt worse than she remember and her heart ached just as much as her head this morning. Sleep had only claimed her after drowning her misery in chems and liquor, which meant her mouth was dry, her eyes were red and gritty, and her head pounded, objecting to the dazzling sunshine. Jo wasn’t able to ignore the throbbing in her temples any longer and she decided they needed a break. Stopping in the minimal shade offered by a rusted old truck, she dropped her pack and sank to the ground with a quiet groan. Hancock followed suit, kicking up a cloud of dust when he collapsed, stretching out his lanky legs in front of him. It irritated her that he could be so at ease, so unaffected by whatever it was that pulsed between them. 

He interrupted her distressing thoughts by turning unreadable eyes to her and holding out a canteen of purified water. She accepted it with a short nod and guzzled it appreciatively. It was warm, but clean and refreshing, easing the scratchiness of her throat. Relaxing slightly she was almost able to forget about his lean body so close to hers. But she didn’t think that would ever happen, not after being in his arms and feeling them wrap around her with what could only be called tenderness. Her jaw clenched involuntarily as the memories of last night bombarded her tender heart again. Jo let out a weary sigh and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the hard fender. She could feel his eyes on her, feel them assessing her, but she refused to talk to him. It was childish, but her heart and pride were bruised. 

Plus she was stubborn. 

. 

. 

_Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn?_

Hancock thought irritably, pulling his tricorn over his eyes to block out the blinding sun. If she would just talk to him, maybe they could figure this out, but instead she refused to even look at him which stung more than it should. Especially since he was supposed to be letting her go, not wishing she’d beg to be in his arms again. Thinking back to her unceremonious entrance into Goodneighbor, Hancock couldn’t quite figure out how he had ended up here, sitting in the dirt under a blazing sun, filthy, hungover, and fucking _pining_ for the woman who sat two feet away, instead of perched behind his desk dealing with mayoral duties and getting high. He snorted and he heard the clank of her appropriated combat armor as she turned to look at him. The unexpected sound of her voice, rough and husky from disuse startled him. 

“What?” He tipped his hat up and looked at her sideways. 

“Hmm?” Her jaw clenched painfully tight again and her lips thinned into an impressively tense line. 

“You made a noise.” 

“Just my life.” He let out a self-deprecating noise of amusement again and closed his eyes. He didn’t really need to see how pathetic she thought he was, he felt that enough for the both of them. 

“What about it?” He should be happy she was at least talking to him again, because that was what he had wanted mere moments ago, but he just wanted to stew in his own self-hate and pity for a little while longer, but fuck him if he’d disappoint her again and he found himself answering. 

“Just wondering how I ended up here.” 

“Oh.” Her exclamation rang with disappointment and he realized how derisive his answer had sounded. She thought he meant her. He lurched up and pushed his hat back, meeting her crestfallen eyes resolutely. 

“Not with you. Never that.” Her eyes went wide and her lips fell open in surprise. 

“Oh.” She said again, her tone hesitant and expression indecipherable as she turned away. His heart clenched painfully and he reached for her, but stopped himself, pulling his hand back to safety at the last second. 

“Jo I-” His voice broke and she paused in the act of closing up her bag to look at him, her face no longer unreadable, but instead pinched with anger. 

“You what?” She snapped, standing and roughly yanking at her things. He gaped up at her, taken aback by the sudden anger emanating from her. When he didn’t immediately answer she pursed her lips and let out a scornful little laugh, the bitter sound of it cutting him to his core. “Cat got your fucking tongue _again_?” She successfully goaded him and he felt a swell of annoyance at her venomous retort.

“I don’t deserve that!” He snarled and was rewarded with her gasp of incredulity. 

“Don’t you fucking dare play the victim!” She demanded, advancing a step to glare down at his lounging form. She sputtered uselessly, anger tying her tongue into knots before she finally spit out, “You’re such an ass!” She turned her back again and began pulling on her pack, hissing in frustration and jerking viciously on the straps when they became tangled. 

“That’s rich sister, coming from you.” Her eyes narrowed at his sharp reply, demanding an answer through clenched teeth. 

“What does that mean?” 

“You’ve got your panties in such a bunch that you can’t even talk to me and over nothing.” He responded heatedly. 

“Nothing!? You say it’s nothing? Are you seriously going to pretend like you don’t know what I’m upset about?” Hancock tried to ignore the anguish that laced her words, tangling with her anger to make her sound a little lost. He hated himself for making her sound that way. He swallowed the nauseous feeling that choked him and the denial that threatened to give him away. He had to stay strong, for her sake. 

“It was just a stupid dance Jo. What’s your problem?” His voice cracked and he had to look away. If she saw his face she would know he was lying. He heard the thud and clank of her pack hitting the ground and then insistent hands pushing at his chest. 

“What the fuck is _your_ problem? Why are you acting like this?” She asked almost desperately, stepping even closer to him. He couldn’t breathe with her so close and he tried to step away, but she followed him. “Stop fucking running John.” 

Her accusation made him freeze and he foolishly chanced a quick glance at her. She was looking at him with such confused longing in her eyes that he almost pulled her to him, but no. He wasn’t for her. He had made his decision to let her go. 

“I’m acting like me. I’m an ass, like you said.” 

Jo felt panicky. Hancock was closed off and his face revealed nothing. Even his voice echoed hollowly, all wrong and not with his usual teasing warmth. This was not the John she knew. This was someone who was intent on sacrificing themselves and she didn’t know why or what the hell he was thinking. She took a small step back giving him the space he obviously wanted and sucked in a deep breath, feeling her anger drain away leaving her as cold as she had been last night. Confusion threatened to overwhelm her, but she struggled against it knowing she needed to remain calm. Somewhere along the line things had changed and she could practically feel him slipping away. 

“John.” She pleaded, “Please stop running.” He flinched and just stared up at her, jaw set obstinately, refusing to answer. She couldn’t lose him, not like Nate and not like Shaun, and if it took them being _just friends_ for him to stay then she would tamp down every trace of affection she had for him. She would be his friend, if that was what he wanted, because she needed his friendship more than she needed his kiss. She just needed him. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you.” She professed. “I misread signals and thought there was something there- just forget it okay? I want us to be friends more than I want anything else. I don’t want to lose that.” Jo bit her tongue on the lie, its sour taste clouding her mouth and making her stomach twist painfully. Hancock slowly pulled himself up and stared at her in something like shock. His lips were parted and he wet them nervously, eyes darting to her own again. It was so silent she could hear the chatter of insects in the brush and the wind rattling tree branches together. He took a deep, shaky breath, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly with the jerky effort and his lips cracked again as he started to speak. 

“Jo-” Whatever he was going to say was lost in the deafening spray of bullets and the guttural shout of a super mutant, 

“I’ll wear your guts around my neck!”

Hancock knocked Jo to the ground, pinning her beneath him as the bullets ripped through the air around them, ricocheting of the truck and mingling with the hateful taunts of the mutants. During a momentary pause in the onslaught they scrambled for their weapons, all tension between them forgotten as they turned to face their common enemy. Silently agreeing to work together they quickly readied themselves for the next wave of bullets, because their very survival depended upon it.


	2. No Man's Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo gets injured and it makes Hancock realize that life is too short to not tell the people you care about exactly how you feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are welcomed! Also, holler if you see any mistakes.

There was no time for talking, but they had been traveling and fighting together for so long that they were in synch on the battlefield. Hancock’s snarl was savage and he cursed the mutants over the sound of their bullets striking the truck they were hunched behind. It was terrible cover, but it was the best that they could have found in the flat open landscape around them. Jo unclipped a frag grenade from her belt and yanked the pin out with her teeth, keeping a firm hold on her shotgun as she raised herself slightly and lobbed the explosive with all her strength. 

Panicked screams and the abrupt stop of their attack gave Hancock the chance to lean out from the rear fender and fire a barrage of shots at mutants. The explosion rocked the truck, stunning them with its strength as debris rained down on their head. The reverberation of the blast and the mutants pained cries were so loud she just barely heard him call out to her, 

“There’s only four!” It was a relatively small group, but they had taken Jo and Hancock by surprise and now had the upper hand, though one super mutant could be heard howling “brother, nooo!” which meant that they were down to three. 

Hancock continued to lay down suppressing fire while Jo readied a second grenade, throwing it with practiced ease. More screams of death could be heard and while the frag went off she swung up her gun and aimed at the super mutant stupid enough to run away from the grenade and into her sights. The suppressing mod on her shotgun muffled its explosive blast, but it still boomed when she fired it and the mutant screeched as the slug caught his chest. His battered chest plate deflected most of the slug shards, but some struck his arms and others ricocheted up into his face. 

He howled furiously and moved forwards, swinging his rifle in her direction. She let out an undignified yelp and dove back behind the cover of the truck. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” She shouted over the distinctive noise of fusion cells hitting metal, scurrying away as the super mutant started to round the truck. She braced her back against Hancock’s and reloaded smoothly, screaming in fury as the mutant moved back into her sight, still firing his rifle at them. His shots went wild, spraying the dirt in front of her and the truck beside them. Over the dull roar in her ears she heard Hancock’s victorious shout, but knew they were still screwed. Her shotgun didn’t have the same range as the mutant’s rifle and the only reason she hadn’t been hit yet is because he had terrible aim, but it was just a matter of time. She gripped her gun tight waiting for her chance and then let out another manic scream, advancing quickly the instant she saw the mutant start fumbling to reload. 

“Jo!” Hancock cried as she sprinted forward, unloading her shotgun into the mutant’s green body. He let out his own battle cry and rapidly returned her volley. Jo felt a sharp burning in her shoulder, but continued firing until her gun was empty and the mutant let out a gurgled gasp before his head exploded, showering her with a bloody mist and skull fragments. Jo stumbled to a halt and swayed on her feet, adrenaline leaving her so abruptly that she was suddenly quite woozy. She stared down at the decapitated mutant at her feet and the blood pooling around his body, absently wondering at the searing pain she felt in her side. And why did her shoulder hurt so much? Ow. Her shotgun dropped out of numb hands and she looked at it dumbly, trying to convince her body to bend so she could pick it up, but it wasn’t cooperating. And fuck, her shoulder hurt! 

Slowly she reached up with her opposite hand, ignore the sharp pinch in her side and touched her shoulder, frowning in confusion when it came away bright and sticky with blood. 

“What?” She mumbled in bewilderment. It had to be mutant blood right? “Hey Hancock?” She called out, feeling lightheaded and shaking her head to try and clear it. It didn’t help and she turned to look for her favorite ghoul, who was busy running towards her. Her vision went fuzzy and black and at the edges, so she lifted her blood covered hand out to him as she said, “I’m shot.” Or she would have said that, but her world went dark and her legs buckled, sending her crashing to the ground. 

.

.

Hancock watched in horror as Jo collapsed, her blood quickly soaking through her ratty flannel shirt. He doubled his pace and raced towards her prone body, struggling to breathe through the terror that threatened to choke him. He slid to stop by her body, knees slipping through mutant blood and tossing his gun aside haphazardly as he pried frantically at her buckles, desperate to release them. 

Her chest plate was slick with blood and dented across her ribs from the force of the near point blank shots she had been struck with. He managed to unbuckle it and carefully pulled it from her limp body, trying not to jostle her wounds, but even that elicited ragged moans. 

“Hush love, I’ve got you.” He whispered. His voice shook and his hands trembled as he tore open her shirt and exposed her bloody torn skin. Working quickly, desperately murmuring useless endearments he attempted to staunch the bleeding from her shoulder and assess the graze wounds on her side at the same time. Her shoulder was one of the worst, but thankfully it had gone clean through, though it still bled freely and the flesh was fried from the fusion cells. Her wheezing breaths alluded to either cracked ribs or a collapsed lung, possibly both. Logically he knew he couldn’t do anything for them, just bind them until he could get her somewhere safe. She needed a doctor, but his shaky hands would have to do. 

Hancock cursed violently; the packs were too far away and he needed supplies. His eyes darted between the truck and her prone form, before squeezing her lifeless hand. 

“Just- Just stay there.” He told her, before sprinting towards the truck. His lungs burned with the effort and he threw his pack on his back and grabbed hers, clutching it to his chest as he ran back. She stirred when he dropped everything near her, groaning in pain. He ignored the noises, blocked them out and focused on getting his hands to cooperate. He pulled out several clean shirts and using his teeth tore them into strips for binding. 

Before binding her shoulder he uncapped his canteen and cleaned the wound as best as he could, washing away Commonwealth dirt and debris, but in order to finish covering it he had to move her. Reluctantly he rolled her to her “good” side, clenching his teeth against the shocked cry she gave. Grimacing he applied pressure to her shoulder and covered the wound with a folded shirt before wrapping the strips around her and tying it off. 

“I’ve got you sister. You’re good.” He muttered, panting as he adjusted her position. It was difficult to bind her ribs laying down and he struggled to prop her up against her bulky pack. Juggling her dead weight he managed to bind them, but it was poorly done and when he finished she let out a strangled groan. 

“John?” He carefully laid her down, wincing when she cried out again. 

“Hey there Jo.” He soothed, brushing back her hair. She was pale from blood loss and passed out again, limp in his arms. He considered her unresponsive form and their packs; there was no way he could carry it all. Moving quickly he grabbed the important bits from her bag and shoved them into his, slinging her precious shotgun over his shoulder, before hiding the pack in the ruined shell of the truck. If they were lucky no one would discover it and he could recover it at a later date. Once that was done Hancock stood over Jo and cycled through his choices again, scowling when he realized he had precious few options at this point. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He silently apologized as he hefted her over his shoulder and let her dangle awkwardly, probably doing more damage to her ribs, but there was no other way he could feasibly carry her. He shifted slightly to balance himself under her added weight, sighed, and began walking. 

.

.

They were in no man’s land between Diamond City and Sanctuary, having left the truck stop early this morning. As he trudged forward he weighed their options, mentally calculating the supplies each settlement had. Starlight Drive-In was closer, but was small and lacked the medical supplies or doctor they’d need. Ignoring the sweat trickling down his back he adjusted course slightly and headed towards Covenant. It was small too and still in the early stages of rebuilding itself after falling into the Minutemen’s hands, but is previous tenants had left it well stocked and one of the new settlers had a medical background. Plus it was better fortified and they could easily hole up there to recover for a while if necessary. If she survived. Her wounds weren’t life-threatening, but she hadn’t stirred in hours and this was the Commonwealth; infection could kill just as easily as a bullet. 

Hancock focused on putting one foot in front of the other and shoved the possibility her dying out of his head. He wouldn’t let her get away with that. How dare she come into his life and help him be a better man and then think she could leave him like this? From some measly fucking wound from a greenskin. She was stronger than that and besides, he needed her. _Shit_ , it hurt a little, to say that out loud. To finally admit that she was vital to his day to day existence. That he craved her damned smile and tried to make her laugh just so he could hear that ridiculous hiccupy snort she did when she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. 

He loved her and the thought of living without her was enough to bring him to his knees. All his reasons for never telling her how he felt seemed insignificant now and with each slow step he swore that if – _when_ – they made it out of this, he would tell her.

.

.

When Hancock stumbled up to the gates of Covenant two hours later he nearly wept, but he didn’t. He did collapse though, falling to his knees, sweaty and exhausted as concerned settlers pulled Jo off his shoulder. Guiding hands hauled also him up and half drug him into the compound. He could barely hear their concerned inquiries over the buzzing in his ears and he struggled against them when they started to carry Jo into a separate building. A stern, older lady roughly grabbed his face and glared at him. 

“Calm down! We’ll take you in with her if you stop struggling.” He fell silent, sagging against their restraining hands, trusting them to do as she said. He stumbled along with and grunted as they deposited him carelessly on a mattress next to Jo’s prone form. A pretty young girl handed him some water before going to help the doc at Jo’s side. He pulled himself up and watched them as they worked. 

She was a wreck; covered in blood with dirt and gunpowder streaked across her face. Underneath that she was pale –too pale– and she had yet to wake, which worried him. He’d even take a pained groan, instead of the terrifying silence he was being subjected too. Sparing him a brief glance the doctor spoke loudly to her helper. 

“She’s lost a bit of blood, but the wounds were cleaned out and wrapped decent enough. She should be fine, once we’re done cleanin’ her up and gettin’ some pain meds into her.” 

“You too.” The young attendant said, readying a hefty dose of med-x. 

“No, look after her.” He argued stubbornly, pulling away from her seeking grasp. The doctor glared at him again, her face unmoved and irritated. 

“You walked yourself into the ground getting’ her here an’ how would it look if when she wakes up you’re dead from exhaustion?” She snapped, hands resting resolutely on her wide hips. He groaned and gave in, letting the nurse push up his jacket and inject the chem. It hit him harder than it should have, mixing with his fatigue and drained emotional state to make everything quickly fade away. The last thing his fuzzy gaze saw was her brown eyes clouded with pain and confusion, but he felt a sharp jolt of relief when they met his. 

She was awake.


	3. We're Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outbursts, confessions, revelations, and kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild dialogue spoilers for some of the disgustingly swoon-worthy stuff Hancock says. Some of it's directly quoted, some is quoted but mushed together by my meddling hand, and other bits are paraphrased.
> 
> Hallelujah! They finally got there! Hope you all enjoyed it. :) Kudos and comments are loved. Also, holler if you see any mistakes.
> 
> Oh and also any further updates will be very sporadic over the next month. Things are about to get even more stressful and insanely hectic with my move right around the corner.

When Jo woke up, she was acutely aware of a throbbing ache in her shoulder and an uncomfortable pressure across her abdomen that made it hard to breath. Every muscle and bone in her body was sore and heavy; she felt weak and exhausted even though she had just woke up. She gasped loudly when her feeble attempt to sit up made the dull pain across her body flare to a white hot intensity. 

“Easy there, sister.” Hancock’s warm voice washed over her and she immediately sought him out, finding him propped up next to her bed. His boots were on the edge of the mattress and a ratty magazine was splayed open across his lap. He looked stressed and tired, but he gave her a relieved smile when their eyes met. “You took a few knocks.”

“What happened?” She croaked, voice raspy from disuse. He leaned forward and helped her sit up, carefully tucking another pillow behind her back before leaning in with a glass of water. She drank greedily, but he pulled it away before she had slaked her thirst.

“Easy.” He warned again, settling back into his chair. “What do you remember?” 

“We were ah- arguing and then super mutants.” He chuckled and replied quietly, 

“So just about everything. You took one to the shoulder and have a few bruised ribs, but it’s not too serious. The Doc said you’d be moving in a couple weeks, but you won’t be fully healed for at least a month. Soonest we can travel is two weeks if you’re doing alright.” 

Jo bit her lip and watched Hancock as he relaxed in his chair, apparently content with their conversation so far. She felt restless and twitchy and there was a thousand words right on the tip of her that threatened to spill forth with each labored breath she took. Everything was at the front of her mind; their argument, her telling him that they could be friends, and his obvious hesitation. She _needed_ to know what he was going to say. She was so fucking weak and it took her a precious moment to untangle her arm from the sheets and blankets that were wrapped tightly around her. She reached out and placed a glancing touch across his knee, which made him look up from his magazine. 

“ _The Secretary Charmer_ huh? I never would have pegged you for a Live  & Love sort of man.” His slow grin was a welcome sight to her groggy eyes, but he just shrugged and set it aside. She shifted slightly and hissed when the sudden movement sent pain radiating through her shoulder. 

“Serves you right for teasing me.” He said without any heat, pulling out his tin of Mentats. She nibbled on her lip, nervous now that she had his full attention. 

“Hey Hancock,” She started, clearing her throat when her voice cracked unexpectedly. 

“More water?” Grateful for the distraction she nodded and took a couple small sips before leaning back. Just this little bit of movement had left her drained and she struggled against it as sleep crept up to claim her. 

“We need to talk.” She slurred and she felt his hand squeeze hers, then boldly caress her cheek, tucking dirty strands of hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah, we do, but you sleep. We’ve got plenty of time for that, I promise love.” He assured her, pressing dry lips against her warm forehead. She sighed in contentment and clutching his warped hand like a lifeline, fell back into the welcoming oblivion. 

.

.

This time when Jo woke, her gaze fell not on Hancock, but a gray haired matron who frowned sternly down at her. 

“You’re awake again.” She said gruffly, before she began brusquely checking Jo’s vitals. Her hands were cold and chapped, but Jo just silently observed as she turned and scribbled some notes down. “Your pulse is good an’ you don’t have a fever. Did the ghoul tell you what I said?” Jo frowned, her silence quickly disappearing in favor of a sort of righteous irritation. 

“His name is Hancock.” She snapped, glaring at the doctor who looked momentarily surprised, but then an appraising expression came over her face. The shrewd, knowing look quickly vanished and she merely grunted uninterestedly. 

“Don’t matter. Did he tell you?” Jo nodded jerkily, glare still firmly in place. “You’re both welcome here for as long as you need.” With their business apparently concluded, the doctor turned her back and stomped away. 

Jo huffed at the settler’s back; damn right they were welcome here! She hadn’t cleared out those S.A.F.E idiots for shits and giggles. Grumbling under her breath she sank back into the cushy pillows, trying to get comfortable. In the process she drew in a sharp breath and immediately wrinkled her nose in distaste at the smell that emanated from her person. 

“A little rank?” Hancock asked, laughing as he strolled through the door juggling a tray piled with food. The aromas shot straight through her, making her stomach growl loudly. “Food or a bath?” Jo was already grabbing for the tray, but he brushed her hands aside and set it gently on her lap with another grin. “Food it is then.” 

“Oh shut it.” She muttered, practically drooling over the hearty vegetable soup, glad to see the crops were thriving here, but she winced when she tried to bring the spoon up to her mouth. She was right handed, which meant that in order to feed herself she would either have to deal with the pain or use her left hand. She glanced at Hancock, but found him staring resolutely out the window with a wrinkled hand covering his mouth. 

_Probably to hide his fucking smirk._ She thought caustically, attempting to lift the spoon again, but with her left hand. The golden broth trembled precariously, threatening to spill and she swore violently when it did, dribbling down her chest. 

“Damn it!” She gritted her teeth and stubbornly dipped the spoon back into the bowl, only to have it pulled gently from her grasp. 

“Let me help you.” Hancock insisted. 

“I’m not a baby!” She snapped, internally seething as she reached for the spoon. He easily held it out of reach and struggled to hide his smile as she glared up at him. 

“Never said you were.” Agreeing with her only seemed to make her more petulant; her pout deepened while he waited patiently for her to come to the realization that she needed him, if only for the moment. 

“Fine. Fine.” She grudgingly relented and he cautiously pulled his chair closer, wary of her current mood. 

Jo folded her arms tightly across her chest, ignoring how the damp material stuck to her skin. This was _not_ how she wanted to face Hancock, with her weak and belligerent, especially considering how they had left things. When he carefully lifted the spoon to her lips she sighed and refused to meet his undecipherable gaze, even as she closed her mouth around the soup. For unknown reasons she felt her face heat and she barely resisted the urge to squirm awkwardly. There was something surprisingly intimate and almost painfully vulnerable about their positions; Hancock caring for her so diligently when just days ago he had been denying the existence of any such affection between them. Occupied as she was with her torturous thoughts, she didn’t notice that the bowl was empty and flinched in surprise when he set it aside with a clank of ceramic on wood. 

“So,” Hancock drawled, popping a mentat into his mouth. He offered her one, but she shook her head. She didn’t want the sharp edge it would give her, afraid it would make her even more hyperaware of the flow of tension between them. “You want that bath now?” 

“Hell yes. Do they have showers?” She asked hopefully, disappointed to see him shake his head. 

“Nope, but they’ve got a decent sized tub and some pots for heating water.” She made to toss back the blankets and was startled when he grabbed her wrist and pulled them back up, glaring at her as he did so. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His tone was harsh and irritated, which was at odds with his usual poised attitude. 

“Helping?” He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. His entire body was rigid, tense and he frowned, obviously upset at something. At her? 

“Just lay there and get better goddamn it! Do you have any fucking sense of self-preservation? You were bleeding in my arms and I couldn’t do anything about it! I-I couldn’t breathe.” He seethed, panting as he turned to scowl at her. “I almost fucking lost you.” His explosive, sudden outburst ended on a quavering note, muffled as he jerked his head away. 

Jo gaped at him, eyes wide with shock as she stared at the raging ghoul before her. She had seen him battle-angry, high, amused, and cranky, but this was something new; this was tension and uncertainty, an awkwardness and vulnerability that seemed as unfamiliar to him as it was to her. He stood trembling next to the bed, jaw clenched, and hands balled into two tight fists, completely withdrawn and unapproachable, but she had to try. She pulled herself up, ignoring the twinge in her ribs and her protesting shoulder, stretching her good arm out to catch one of his fists. He twitched at the contact, but didn’t shake her off. Instead he looked at her with onyx eyes that burned her with their passion. She refused to let go or back off. His sudden ferocity didn’t scare her as much as the doubt and hesitation between them did. 

“Hancock- John, are we friends?” It was a searching question and a leading one and his lip curled into a sneer as he nodded sharply. She cleared her throat nervously and asked, “Have you ever thought about us as maybe more than just friends?” 

Hancock turned away from her, feeling his throat constrict under the nervous pressure swelling within him. This was _not_ how this was supposed to go. It had been easier to follow his plan when she had been half asleep and still drugged, but his plan had fallen to absolute shit when he had freaked out at her. It had been unintentional, but underneath his calm exterior the mere thought of her body slung over his shoulder sent him into cold sweats. Her wounds hadn’t been fatal, just serious, but he could still feel her blood on his hands and hear her pained cries as he had cared for her. He wanted to tell her the truth and here she was asking, but all he could think about was watching her sprint towards a super mutant and her unconscious body in his arms. It didn’t really set a romantic mood and it made him edgy and frustrated. 

It made him want to run. 

But he had vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to do that again, especially after the last time. So he clenched his hands and turned to face her, struggling to remember how to breathe. Her brown eyes were huge on her face and she looked worried with her lower lip clenched between her teeth. Finally he cleared his throat and croaked, 

“It that obvious? But come on. You don’t want to wake up to this mug every morning.” He motioned with a ruined hand to his equally wrecked face, eyes darting away from hers at the last second. He didn’t see her lips twist angrily or how she glared at him. 

“That’s my fucking decision John. You don’t get to say who I love.” Her heated words startled him into looking at her again, surprised by the fiery expression she wore. It was passionate and honest though, even he could see that much. And maybe he hadn’t given her enough credit, she was a grown woman who could make her own fucking decisions after all. He sighed and rubbed at his face, trying to buy himself a little time to sort through the emotions pounding through his veins. 

Hancock still felt agitated and confused, but happy too. Fucking elated even. She wanted him. She _loved_ him. Never in his life had he expected to have his love returned. It was everything he had wanted, but it was fucking terrifying too. He felt a grin pull at his lips, twisting the warped skin and making it even tighter than it already was. He knew it wasn’t a pretty picture, but she met his grin with a wide smile of her own and he let out a bark of laughter. 

“Wouldn’t expect that kind of lapse in judgement from you, but I guess that works out for me then, doesn’t it?” He strode over to the bed and sat the edge of it and this time when she bit her lip it was from a different kind of anticipation; one born of months of sexual frustration and a keen hunger. Raising a hand he ghosted it along her jaw, barely touching the skin before brushing stray strands of hair away from her face. She pressed her cheek into his palm and sighed, all the tension leaving her body at once. Her eyes fluttered close as he continued his careful, tentative exploration, trailing his fingers over her neck and through the longer hair of her ponytail. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” He whispered. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled again and his eyes dropped to her mouth. He heard her quick intake of breath and smirked when she tilted her chin up in an open invitation. Who was he to deny a lady? 

Mindful that she was still recovering, he kept the kiss chaste, but pressed his lips tightly to hers. Jo hummed in pleasure and wrapped her good arm around his neck, firmly pressing herself into his bony embrace. Her lips were soft and full against his, her body warm and willing as he teased another moan from her with a quick flick of his tongue. Knowing that they were severely limited by her wounds, they both pulled back slowly, breathing heavily despite the modesty of their kiss. 

Hancock rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he fought against the overwhelming rush of _whatever_ it was he was feeling. 

“John?” He pulled back to look at her. Uncertainty swam in her eyes and he unconsciously brought a hand up to stroke her cheek, soothing her without thought. 

“Yeah love?” 

“Is- is everything okay between us?” He shouldn’t have been surprised that she needed reassurance, considering how he had put her through the wringer over their relationship, but it still caught him off guard. He struggled with his words, trying figure out how to articulate how he felt about her –about them– and comfort her at the same time. 

“Words don’t begin to do it justice. You, you’re the best think I got. Most of my life to this point, I’ve been running out on the good things I got, but being here with you, for the first time in my life, things have just felt . . . right. And running, it’s the furthest thing from my mind, because I know the place I belong. Right here. At your side. So I’d say we’re all right.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little iffy about the cliff hanger type ending, but it was getting massive and they were getting nowhere so maybe some bullets will get things moving along in the right direction. We can only hope so right?


End file.
